


hands on your body (i don't wanna waste no time)

by insincerely



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Bottom T'Challa (Marvel), Cousin Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 21:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13865922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insincerely/pseuds/insincerely
Summary: T'Challa keeps the window to his private quarters open at night.





	hands on your body (i don't wanna waste no time)

T'Challa keeps the window to his private quarters open at night.

The cool breeze feels like a caress to the nape of his neck, bare shoulders slowly losing the tension they'd held throughtout the day. It'd been a flurry of meetings with the council, of setting up appointments with various world leaders, of wondering, at the very back of his mind (the part that's suppressed and locked away), if Erik will come tonight.

There's a wistful expression on T'Challa's face now, eyes fluttering shut as he remembers their last encounter in this very same room, on this very same bed. That had been about two weeks ago, Erik slipping in like he always did, swift and deadly like a jaguar. He'd fucked T'Challa against the wall then, chest to back as he muffled T'Challa's moans with a hand over his mouth.

The memory has T'Challa's cock jerking in interest, stirring within the confines of his loose, patterned pajamas. With his eyes still closed, T'Challa leans back until he hits the soft, welcoming warmth of his bedsheets, a sigh escaping his lips as he presses his cheek against the pillow.

Then, when his body has sagged contentedly into the mattress, T'Challa runs a hand down from his chest, to the flat planes of his stomach, before finally going past the waistband of his pajamas to grip his half-hard cock.

He starts with slow, lazy pulls, thumb rubbing the head of his dick in every upstroke. It doesn't even surprise him that he's subconsciously replicating Erik's method of jerking him off; always teasing in the beginning, rough palms sliding against his cock until he's swollen and unbearably hard, precum pooling at the slit.

"Mmh," T'Challa feels the muscles in his thighs tighten as he squeezes himself harder than he'd intended, and it reminds him so much of Erik– mixing in pain with the pleasure– that he starts leaking fast, precum already beading at the head, forming a patch on his pajamas.

There's a muffled thud to his right, just where the window is, and before T'Challa can even turn his head, Erik's already above him, pinning him down with his weight.

"Damn, you havin' fun without me?" Erik drawls out, eyes going from the wet patch to T'Challa's round eyes, still clouded with the stirrings of arousal. "Fuck, baby, you're all wet already."

T'Challa is quick to recover from his surprise, his heartbeat accelerating from nervous thudding to an excited, stuttering rhythm.

"Sneaking in like this will get you hanged," he quips back, because despite the fact that the mere thought of Erik could turn him into a wanton mess, he still has an image to uphold. He is the king, after all. "you must remember you _are_ a wanted man."

"Yeah," Erik grins, lower canines glinting in the low light. He slots his knee between T'Challa's legs, rubbing him in firm circles until he pries a gasp out of T'Challa. "I do feel very wanted right now."

T'Challa's face burns, suddenly bashful as Erik pulls away long enough to take off his shirt, flinging the material carelessly over his shoulder. All the while, he doesn't take his eyes off of T'Challa, much like he did when he'd stripped in the Warrior Falls all those months ago.

This time though, the fire in Erik's eyes is different– where there'd been nothing but hatred and violence is now replaced by a sensuality enough to make even the strongest warrior blush. It's dark and heated and downright filthy, and T'Challa is more than willing to submit to him this way.

"Take 'em off." Erik juts his chin towards T'Challa's pajamas.

T'Challa is quick to obey, limbs losing their usual finesse as he all but shoves it down and out of his way. Erik's still watching him, no doubt amused by this display, if the smug quirk of his lips were indication enough.

"Damn, nobody been givin' you dick, huh? S'that why you're actin' like a bitch in heat?"

 _No_ , the words are lodged in T'Challa's throat, stuck along with his frantic, beating heart. _I just want to feel you again. I find myself forgetting already. Please, touch me._

He doesn't say any of them, at least, not the first two. The last one tumbles out of him in desperation because almost a minute has passed already and Erik is _still_ just looking, "N'Jadaka, touch me, please."

Erik's jaw tightens at the mention of his name, but he relents by reaching out to flick T'Challa's nipple, pulling at the nub until it hardens between his fingers. He admires the arch of T'Challa's back as he sets to work on the other nipple, and soon T'Challa's trembling under him, body angled towards Erik like an offering.

"Fuck, 's like you're a virgin or some shit," Erik can't keep the wonder out of his voice, which must mean that T'Challa really is being more promiscuous than usual.

He can't help it though; it's like Erik had left his imprint on T'Challa after they'd last been together, his body aching from Erik's absence since then. And now that he's here, T'Challa wants nothing more but for Erik to revisit every part of him, mark him so it stops hurting as much.

As if reading his thoughts, Erik begins his descent, following the same trail T'Challa had done earlier when he'd been touching himself to thoughts of the man now above him. Erik doesn't stop until he's reached T'Challa's cock, pressed flush against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

"You're gonna drive me wild with this shit, y'know." Erik murmurs, his thumb spreading the precum around, fingers loose around T'Challa. "So wet and I've barely even touched you, cuz."

T'Challa hisses as Erik starts jerking him off with dry, calloused fingers, his dick traitorously throbbing despite the flashes of pain. It must've shown on his face, the internal conflict of batting Erik's hand away and fucking into his fist, because Erik halts his movements to blink at him.

"Right, right. Still gotta make it wetter, huh? Always a spoiled one, Your Highness." Then Erik's scooting down, the mattress dipping further as he drags his knees until he's facing T'Challa's dick. Taking T'Challa back in his hand, Erik wastes no time in sucking the head into his mouth.

"Oh–" T'Challa is quick to bite his knuckle, instantly stifling the sound. Erik laughs at him with his eyes, twinkling and crinkled at the edges.

Erik's mouth is hot and tight and everything else that's good, good to the point of having T'Challa, the king of Wakanda, the noble Black Panther, reduced to a writhing, flustered mess. He alternates between fast and slow, bobbing his head to a rhythm T'Challa tries and fails to follow, too overwhelmed with how fucking good it all feels.

Soon enough, T'Challa's breath hitches, abs spasming as he pulls at Erik's dreads rather roughly and manages, "Close– I'm clo–"

Erik pulls off with a slick, wet sound, smacking his lips like he's just had a good meal. T'Challa's hips try to follow his mouth, seeking that wonderful heat, but Erik pushes him down with a warning glare.

"Don't get too greedy, cuz. Ain't nobody nuttin' before I fuck you."

"The worst," T'Challa snaps, voice scratched and throaty like he'd been the one sucking cock. "you are absolutely the worst."

Then he pulls at Erik's dreads again, spreading his thighs as he does so. "Now, prove to me you aren't all talk and get back here."

Letting out a growl that sounds much like a jaguar finally closing in on its prey, Erik makes his way back on top of him, rutting his dick against T'Challa's leg. Just the feel of that hot, hard line against his skin has T'Challa's head spinning, mouth watering as he clings to Erik's shoulders and begs in a way that would no doubt bring shame to his ancestors.

"Do it, please–"

His pleas only intensify when Erik circles a finger around his rim, the digit catching before it eases in with little to no resistance at all. The realization dawns onto Erik with a look of surprise, and the rarity of the sight has T'Challa sighing contentedly into the cage of Erik's arms.

"You been fingering yourself?" Erik asks, voice rough, rougher than when he'd told T'Challa to strip. It's enough to cause a shiver to run down T'Challa's spine.

"I... needed to." T'Challa says between pants, thoroughly distracted by the in and out of Erik's finger, hissing when Erik adds a second.

_Needed to feel something. Needed to fill the absence._

He doesn't say the words, but T'Challa knows Erik hears them, loud and clear in the heavy silence. Something shifts in Erik's eyes then; they're still wild and dark, sharpened by desire, but the edges have softened considerably. Almost like he's contemplating.

"I got you." Erik mumbles after a pause, leaning down to brush his lips along the curve of T'Challa's cheek, mapping a path towards his mouth. It's only when their lips meet does Erik start moving his fingers, spreading him open with scissoring motions.

He makes sure to swallow each and every sound T'Challa makes, keep it for himself until the next time he can coax them out of him. He'll let the memory wash over him during the particularly cold nights, when he can't take the risk of being caught in taking apart the king of Wakanda right under everyone's noses.

"Aight, c'mere," Erik withdraws his fingers, holding T'Challa by the hips to guide him towards the bulge straining against Erik's slacks. With one hand, Erik pushes it down to the middle of his thighs, stroking his cock to full hardness before bearing down on T'Challa. "Gonna fuck you now, cuz. Make you feel this dick for weeks."

T'Challa responds by wrapping his legs around Erik's lower back, ankles locking together, inevitably pushing him closer until the head of Erik's cock brushes just behind his balls.

"I would prefer if you just do it." T'Challa still has to maintain a semblance of control somehow, but the waver in his voice doesn't really help his case at all. It doesn't matter though; none of it matters, not when Erik's finally breaching him, the swollen head of his dick pushing past the rim.

T'Challa can feel each thick inch going inside, the slow slide a torture he isn't sure he can endure for much longer. Bringing up both hands to Erik's face, T'Challa makes sure Erik can see every shift in his expression– the twitch of his lips, the crease of his brow, the dilation of his pupils, all from having Erik's cock lodged deep in him.

"Holy shit," Erik breathes out, his cocky exterior breaking as he starts moving his hips. He keeps eye contact despite the dizzying arousal, fucking T'Challa with hard strokes, skipping past the shallow thrusts because he's done this enough times to know T'Challa prefers it raw and fast. "so tight. Always so fucking tight. Feels too good– you're takin' me too good, baby."

His words are interspersed with the slick, wet sound of his cock pumping in and out of T'Challa, the base of his dick coated and glistening with the lube T'Challa had prepped himself with. Had _always_ prepped himself with without fail, even during the nights when Erik couldn't fuck him.

"Ah–" Suddenly, T'Challa jolts like he'd been electrocuted, round eyes widening as Erik takes to fucking him in the same spot, his cockhead pressing right into T'Challa's prostate. "Hm– ngh, N'Ja– N–"

"Dick got you forgettin' your words, baby?" Erik laughs breathlessly, then he breaks out into a moan when T'Challa tightens around him so deliciously, enough to make him go cross-eyed. "Mmm, _fuck_ – keep that up. Get greedy for it, cuz. Come on my dick."

Erik bends over, catching T'Challa's lips in a bruising kiss as he moves his hips faster, each thrust hard enough to push T'Challa up the mattress, back rubbing against the soft sheets.

Soon T'Challa has to break away from the kiss, smothering his whimper against Erik's neck, arms wound tight around his shoulders as his throbbing, purple cock jerks and starts spurting out thick, hot lines of cum.

Erik watches the gorgeous display through half-lidded eyes, unrelentlessly fucking T'Challa through his orgasm despite the obvious overstimulation. He comes for a long time, chest and stomach coated with so much cum that it's almost to a worrying degree.

"Goddamn," he runs a finger through the mess, T'Challa still shaking and twitching in the aftermath. "can't believe you saved up all this nut for me, baby."

Then Erik pulls out until the head's barely inside, sliding in home a second later, repeating the process until T'Challa's damn near close to sobbing and Erik has to close a hand over his mouth. He fucks T'Challa in harsh, unforgiving thrusts, savoring the would-be screams muffled by his palm, gritting his teeth when he feels the familiar warmth coiling in his gut.

"Gonna cum in you. Fill you up 'til you can taste it."

T'Challa tightens his ankles behind Erik, as if saying _Do it_ , and it's enough to tip him over the edge as well, his cock deep in T'Challa as he comes, hot and thick and good, so good that Erik swears he sees stars.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," he curses, face crumpled in pleasure, with T'Challa pressing a kiss to his open mouth, to his jaw, to his cheek.

After that, it's a slow descent from his climax, filled with deep, heavy breathing and sweaty skin sliding together until T'Challa's bodily pushing him off, grunting about "getting crushed by a human boulder."

Erik chuckles from where he's now sprawled beside T'Challa. "A _sexy_ human boulder, right, cuz?"

T'Challa doesn't even have the heart to retort another insult, not when Erik's looking at him like that, all messy hair and lazy smirks. A punch of desire hits him square in the chest, and it should scare him, just how much he wants this man. 

But instead of caving in to that fear, T'Challa reaches out, so naive and trusting. Always so trusting. He traces the smile on Erik's lips with his thumb, and says, "Stay, N'Jadaka."

There's a flash in Erik's eyes, and T'Challa wishes he could spend more time learning each glint, each change in those dark orbs. "Can't do that, cuz. Your lil sis made them restriction cells sure-proof. Another hour here and the entire Dora's gonna be on my ass."

T'Challa knows this, of course. He knows that Erik's cell has sensors, knows that if he's gone for too long it'll activate an alert in the kimoyo beads. So he reaches for his wrist, twists one of the beads until it gives an audible click.

Erik raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't say anything.

"That will buy us some time until dawn." T'Challa explains, offering a silent apology to Shuri for taking advantage of his control over their tech, even when it comes with his privileges of being king.

"'Til dawn, huh?" Erik turns to his side, propping his arm against the pillow as he surveys the length of T'Challa's body with sharp, hungry eyes. "Think I can fuck another one outta you here before you suck me in the shower?"

T'Challa's already aching to have Erik in him again, so instead of replying, he spreads his legs invitingly, Erik's cum dripping out obscenely.

Erik all but pounces on him right there and then.

(Predictably, they end up sleeping through the alarm going off in T'Challa's bracelet, with T'Challa having to explain to Okoye that no, he did not know where his cousin was, and that no, he was not mauled by a bear in his sleep.

Erik stifles a snort from his place in T'Challa's closet, but dutifully keeps silent all the same.)

**Author's Note:**

> that thing i said about writing something plot-heavy for t'cherik? i lied yall!
> 
> also, in this fic erik isn't necessarily a prisoner, but he's still kept in a restriction cell since no one apart from t'challa is comfortable enough to have him in a guest room yet. a few months down the line of erik being on his best behavior (while also sneaking out to fuck t'challa's brains out from time to time), the royal family begrudgingly agrees to let erik have his own room. they don't question t'challa's utter insistence to situate erik right by his own private quarters, but only bc he's king.


End file.
